What Are You Afraid Of?

  Matthew froze, a drop of sweat beading on his forehead and sliding down his nose.

  “I’d heard that tech billionaires were psychos, but you really are nuts,” he muttered.

  Griff ignored his babbling. He was far more concerned with patting down his visitor. Only when he was certain that Matthew wasn’t hiding a weapon did he slide his hand beneath the expensive jacket. His fingers easily located the folded piece of paper in the inner pocket. He pulled it out and held it in front of Matthew’s face.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s the reason I’m here,” Matthew said.

  Griff made a sound of annoyance. Was the man deliberately trying to piss him off? A dangerous choice. Right now he wouldn’t hesitate to crush the man’s windpipe.

  With one hand he awkwardly unfolded the paper. He could make out a fuzzy image that looked like it’d been taken by a cheap camera and then printed out in black-and-white. With a frown he tilted it toward the morning sunlight that poured through the open door. Finally he could make out what looked like a young man in . . . a lumberyard? There were stacks of wood in the background.

  He looked closer and suddenly realized that he recognized the sharply carved profile of the man.

  “Is that Ronnie Hyde?” he demanded in confusion. Why would Matthew have a picture of his housekeeper’s son in his pocket?

  “Once the guard realized our code had been used, but none of us were in California, he pulled the footage from the surveillance camera and e-mailed this image to my father,” Matthew said. “We instantly recognized who was sneaking around our property.”

  First Matthew was in California. And now there was seeming proof that Ronnie was here as well. So what did that mean? Were the two working together?

  Ronnie, after all, had steered Carmen toward Indiana with his implication that her uncle had stolen her inheritance. He had to know she would return home to try to find evidence of the life insurance policy. It would have been a simple matter to follow them and wait for an opportunity to strike. Like when they were trying to cross an icy bridge.

  He gave a shake of his head. Right now he didn’t care why Ronnie or Matthew might want to hurt Carmen. All that mattered was bringing her home safely.

  “Where’s the warehouse located?” he demanded.

  “Around forty miles north of here.”

  Griff ’s breath caught in his throat. So close. Could that be where they’d taken Carmen? Or was this a trick to ensure he wasted his time trying to track her to the warehouse? Matthew might have been sent to distract him with false leads while they escaped from the area.

  Then again, he couldn’t ignore a potential lead.

  “Is there a reason for Ronnie to be in the warehouse?”

  “Hell, no,” Matthew snapped.

  “Then why give him the code?”

  “I didn’t.”

  Griff allowed the paper to drop to the floor, returning his full attention to Matthew.

  “Your father or brother might have asked him to take care of something if he was in the area,” he pointed out.

  Matthew gave a decisive shake of his head. “I talked with both of them. Not that it was really necessary.” The younger man’s face twisted into an expression of revulsion. “I can promise you that no one in the Jacobs family would trust Ronnie Hyde to pick up our trash, let alone give him security codes to our properties.”

  Griff studied him. Either Matthew was the best actor he’d ever met, or he truly loathed Ronnie Hyde. Of course, that didn’t mean the two weren’t working together, he quickly reminded himself.

  Greed often made strange bedfellows.

  “You don’t like the housekeeper’s son?”

  “No, I don’t,” Matthew agreed without hesitation. “And not because he’s the son of our former housekeeper. He was always a sneak and a liar who I caught spying on me whenever I visited my uncle Stuart’s house.” His lips curled into a sneer. “Honestly, he was a freak and I was glad his mother sent him away.”

  Griff arched a brow. What would Matthew think if he knew that the housekeeper had sent away her son because she thought the Jacobs family was lacking in basic decency?

  Probably he wouldn’t care. Griff had a suspicion that Lawrence and his sons didn’t put a high value on ethics.

  “A freak?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” Matthew grimaced. “He was watching. Always watching. From the bushes or the attic windows. I even caught him taking pictures of my uncle when he thought no one was looking. It was weird. If it wasn’t for his stepfather’s loyalty to the Jacobs family, he wouldn’t be allowed on our estate.”

  Griff ’s jaw clenched. Had the creep been spying on Carmen as well? That would explain his obsession with her now.

  Of course, Matthew could be lying.

  Right now Griff had no intention of jumping to conclusions. He’d spent the last few days chasing after shadows. Carmen couldn’t afford for him to make a mistake now.

  “Then how did he get the code?” he asked.

  “I told you. He’s a sneak,” Matthew said, his gaze darting toward the paper that had fallen to the floor. “And he has access to our estate. He could have searched my father’s office and run across it.”

  Griff studied the man’s flushed face. It would be easy to dismiss the idea that Ronnie could have known he would need the codes to the warehouse. That would mean he’d peered into the future and known that Carmen was going to be traveling to California to stay at Griff ’s house, so she would be conveniently located for him to kidnap.

  Then again, whoever had been sending Carmen the strange clues had deliberately been leading her from one location to another. First to Kansas City and then to Baltimore. And finally they’d left the postcard luring her to California.

  So it was possible that he’d been prepared for her arrival long before Griff had entered the picture. And that her presence in his house had merely made it easier for the bastard to find her.

  Frustrated fury bubbled through him, his need to be out searching for Carmen an overwhelming compulsion.

  “You haven’t explained why you traveled all the way to California,” he snapped. “You could have called the cops.”

  His eyes darted to the side. Matthew either didn’t want to answer Griff ’s question, or he was about to lie.

  “That was my first thought,” he finally said.

  “But?” Griff prompted.

  The younger man tugged on Griff ’s wrist, as if Griff might have forgotten he still had his fingers wrapped around the man’s throat. Griff didn’t budge.

  Matthew muttered a curse, accepting he wasn’t going anywhere until he’d answered Griff ’s questions.

  “I saw you Christmas morning,” he abruptly said.

  Griff waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, Griff made a sound of impatience. The clock was ticking. Tick. Tock. And with every passing second, Carmen could be slipping further away.

  He refused to believe that anything might have already happened to her. His world would shatter.

  That simple.

  “And?” he growled.

  Matthew flinched, easily sensing that Griff was reaching the end of his limited patience.

  “And I was in the foyer when you pulled up to the house Christmas morning,” he hastily continued. “I was about to open the door when I watched Ronnie lure you away. After that you took off like we had the plague.”

  Griff narrowed his gaze. If Matthew had watched them drive away, he might have been the one to follow them to the hotel and then onto Carmen’s farm.

  “Ronnie wasn’t the only one who likes to watch,” he murmured.

  Matthew’s lips twisted. “Touché,” he murmured. “But I wasn’t standing there so I could spy on you. My father was nagging because I’d had a couple of drinks before lunch and I was going to step outside to get away from him. It was the only way to enjoy my brandy in peace.”

  Griff wasn’t impressed. “What happened next?”

  “
After you left I went out to ask Ronnie what he’d said to you,” he said. “I knew it had to be something bad about our family or you wouldn’t have left without at least stopping at the house and making a polite excuse to miss lunch.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “He said he’d settled one score. Then he laughed and walked away.” Matthew’s jaw tightened and he lowered his gaze. Griff once again suspected that he was trying to hide something. “I didn’t know what he meant, but when I saw that he was sneaking around our warehouse, I wondered if he was going to try to settle another score. I wanted to catch him in the act so I could figure out what he was planning.”

  Griff studied Matthew’s lean face, before a portion of his suspicion abruptly eased. Finally. Something that made sense.

  He wasn’t stupid enough to think that Matthew had rushed to California because Ronnie had used their private code. Why not just call the cops? But if Lawrence Jacobs had any nefarious secrets, he would be desperate to keep them hidden. Undocumented workers. Cooked books. Shortcuts around regulations. And if they feared Ronnie was out here to cause them trouble, they would do whatever necessary to stop him.

  Especially if they suspected that Carmen was already snooping into the Jacobs family’s business.

  “Okay,” he said, still far from convinced that Matthew was the harmless boob he pretended to be. “Then explain why you’re in my house.”

  “Are you kidding?” Matthew scoffed. “I’m in here because you grabbed my throat like a madman and slammed me against the wall.”

  Griff narrowed his gaze. Did the man think he was being funny? If so, Griff wasn’t amused.

  “Don’t screw with me,” he snapped.

  “Christ.” Matthew heaved a harsh sigh. “Since I was going to be stuck in California for a few days I thought I would stop by and see if you were in town.”

  “Why?”

  A flush stained Matthew’s face. “I hoped we could hang out together.”

  Griff was genuinely baffled. “Hang out?”

  “You know, a few red carpet events. Maybe a pool party with some half-naked babes.” Matthew grimaced, his gaze darting over Griff ’s shoulder to the nearby door. “Clearly, I caught you at a bad time. So if you’ll just remove your fingers from my throat I’ll be on my way.”

  Griff muttered a curse. Was he an idiot? Griff would rather gouge out his eyes than waste one second of his life “hanging out” with this shallow jerk. Or was this all some elaborate trap.

  Only one way to find out.

  “Carmen is missing,” he abruptly said.

  Matthew blinked. He looked genuinely baffled. “Missing? Missing from where?”

  Griff ignored the question. “I want you to take me to the warehouse.”

  “Look, man. I just—”

  Griff tightened his grip until Matthew’s eyes threatened to pop out of his head.

  “Now.”

  “Yeah.” Matthew made a gagging sound. “Great idea.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Carmen knew that she’d blacked out from Ronnie’s vicious slap. What she didn’t know was how long she’d been out. Certainly long enough for Ronnie to have moved so he was crouching next to her.

  There was a strange expression on his scarred face as he watched her. Like a snake who’d just bit a mouse and was watching in pleasure as the venom spread through her body.

  It was creepy enough that she pressed her hands to the cement floor and pushed herself to a seated position. Jagged pain shot from her jaw to the back of her head, wrenching a low groan out of her.

  Crap. Her head was spinning like she’d been on a three-day drinking spree and her mouth was throbbing.

  Reaching up, she cautiously touched her lower lip. It was swollen twice its normal size and so tender she wondered if she needed stitches. With a grimace, she pulled her hand away to study the blood that stained the tips of her fingers.

  Ronnie abruptly broke the thick silence. “You shouldn’t anger me.”

  “I didn’t mean to,” she breathed, resisting the urge to try to find a way to placate her captor.

  He was clearly unstable. Which meant there was no way to guess what might or might not trigger a burst of violence. Right now, all she could do was try to stay alive long enough to hope that help was on its way.

  The pale eyes held a hectic light as he glared at her. “Why won’t you accept the truth?” he demanded. “I showed you the letters.”

  She scooted back, using the need to rest her aching head against the wall as an excuse to put some space between her and Ronnie. It might be her imagination, but it felt like an evil aura was pulsing around the man.

  She didn’t want to be tainted.

  “The handwriting doesn’t look right,” she told him.

  Ronnie abruptly straightened, his hands curling into tight fists of frustration.

  “You sound just like our father.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I waited for years to earn the right to be claimed as a Jacobs.” He paced across the bay, nearly reaching the forklift before he turned to pace back toward her. “I was the perfect son. Always helping my mother around the house and offering to run errands. I would even follow him when he went on his evening walk. I thought if we could be alone together, he would feel more comfortable confessing where we couldn’t be overheard by your mother.” He released a sharp, humorless laugh. “He pretended as if he didn’t even see me.”

  Carmen shivered. She’d always thought that Ronnie was sneaky, but she hadn’t realized he’d been stalking her father.

  She pointed out the obvious. “Maybe he didn’t tell you because he didn’t believe you were his son.”

  In three long strides he was back at her side, his hand raised in warning.

  “Don’t say that.”

  She cringed, turning her head to the side. “Sorry.”

  Long seconds passed as he tried to regain command of his volatile temper. He sucked in a deep breath, his expression defiant.

  “Do you think I didn’t try to convince myself that he ignored me because my mother had never told him that I was his son?” he demanded. “But then I saw the letters.”

  Her gaze shifted toward the letters, which were scattered a few feet away. In the gloom they looked like bits of discarded trash. A tangible reminder of broken dreams.

  “They didn’t say anything about a child,” she said in confusion.

  He clicked his tongue. As if she was being incredibly stupid.

  “No, but they proved that my mother hadn’t been just a quickie in the pantry,” he insisted, a fleck of spit collecting at the corner of his mouth. “They had a relationship. He loved her.”

  She once again glanced toward the scattered letters. Did she tell him that they were exact copies of letters that had been sent to her mother?

  No. She might not be able to predict what would set him off, but she was pretty sure he wasn’t prepared to accept that someone had found the letters that had been written to her own mother and simply copied them. He wanted to believe his mother had been special to his father. Whoever that might be.

  “Okay,” she forced herself to mutter.

  His narrow face hardened, but he accepted her pretense of agreement.

  “The letters show they were in a relationship. There was no way he wouldn’t have realized that his lover was pregnant and that the baby was his.” He pivoted away, resuming his pacing. A manic tension hummed in the air around him. “He was deliberately denying my rightful inheritance.”

  Carmen jerked, watching him pace toward the forklift at the end of the bay and back again. Had Griff been right in the first place? Was all this horror and blood about money?

  “You want an inheritance?”

  He waved a hand, annoyed by her inability to understand what he was saying.

  “I want what was denied me,” he insisted, lifting his hand to point an accusing finger in her direction. “What you had.”

  She furrowed h
er brow. “What did I have?”

  “Parents who loved you.”

  She shrugged. She couldn’t argue with that. Whatever had been going on between her parents, it had never lessened their affection for her. She’d spent her childhood confident in the belief that she was a treasured member of her family. Something she’d taken for granted until it had been snatched away from her.

  Still, she’d seen how Ellen had been with her only son. She might have been a stern woman, but she’d been devoted to Ronnie. In fact, now that Carmen was older, she could look back and see that the woman had kept him close to her side. Almost as if she didn’t want him out of her sight.

  “Your mother loved you,” she said.

  Ronnie slashed his hand through the air. “I wanted the right to my true name,” he rasped. “Can you imagine what it feels like to be the one cleaning up dog shit from the yard, or taking out the trash, while the princess is flouncing around in her new dress with a bunch of her snotty friends?”

  The animosity spilled out of him, like an infected wound that was suddenly lanced. Clearly, he’d been hoarding his resentment for years.

  “If you want my share of the inheritance, I’m happy to give it to you,” she said. “You said that I should have three million dollars from my parents’ insurance policy. You can have it all.”

  “I don’t want money, I want respect,” he snapped. “I want my father to look me in the eye and tell me that he’s proud of me.”

  An unexpected regret sliced through her heart. She’d spent the past fourteen years refusing to think about her father. It was too painful to try to reconcile the man she’d loved with the man who could murder her own mother. It wasn’t until she’d been discussing the past with Griff that she realized she’d locked away the good memories along with the bad. Which wasn’t fair to her father. Or her.

  “It’s too late for that,” she breathed.

  An odd expression twisted his face. “It wouldn’t have been too late,” he said, reaching up to rub his forehead. Was he in pain? Or sick? Well, beyond the obvious sickness of being a crazed lunatic. “He just wouldn’t listen to me,” Ronnie continued, seeming to speak more to himself than her. “If he’d just admitted the truth, then I wouldn’t have had to punish him.”